


Show me Mercy from the Powers that be

by BBCotaku



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Death, No so much a fix it fic as wreck it fic, Open ended, Trickster-God!matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:58:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBCotaku/pseuds/BBCotaku
Summary: On the other side Percy is met by a Goddess of Death and a Man of Stories





	

**Author's Note:**

> Matt is ridiculously out of character. Just saying.  
> This Fic was inspired partly by pain, party by the Muse song "Mercy"

"...I cannot let you leave."

Percy de Rolo awoke with a start, his lungs craving air as he rocket up, eye wide.

"Hello," a woman sat cross legged just in front of him, her face as white and still as porcelain, her eyes and lips painted on in heavy strokes of black. The world around her was colourless and still, a dead forest of glass and decade-old ash. Percy could see the still forms of his friends; Scanlans hands raised in preparation to cast a spell, Grog's teeth bared in rage, his axe mid swing, Vex and Keyleth's eyes wide and screaming. 

Percy swallowed in an attempt to return moisture to his mouth, running a hand nervously through his hair. "I'm..." he locked his gaze where he assumed the woman's eyes would be. "I'm dead?" 

The goddess nodded, a short, curt movement that made Percy's heart plummet. 

"Ripley..." he gave a nervous laugh and shook his head. "Ripley of all people!" He was shaking, his hand falling back to his side in an attempt to steady himself against the ground. His fringe falling limply into his eyes, no longer the bright and unholy white it had been in death, but rather his natural shade of brown. "Are you here to guide me like you did my family?"

The Raven Queen laughed, a loud and uncharacteristic snort that echoed across the still surroundings. "Me? No, no!" The Raven Queen pointed a finger over Percy's shoulder. "That's her job." 

Glancing over his shoulder Percy once again locked eyes with the Raven Queen, however this one seemed a great deal more disgruntled. Her arms crossed across her chest, her eyes harsh under the mask. 

"We've talked about this, Mercer." 

"Yeah, yeah," The seated Queen waved a hand, the surface of her mask cracking sharply before splintering from her—his—face. The long dark hair of the goddess was cut short, her robes shifting from black to a bright and jarring shade of purple, her face now that of a man whose eyes were covered by a strip of bandages. "You'll forgive you for lightening the mood, won't you?" 

Percy shuffled back from the man, his eyes wide as he searched frantically for the comforting touch of his gun. "Who the hell are you?!" He cried as the man grinned from ear to ear. 

"Most call me Mercer, I'm a god—"

"Of stories," The Raven Queen interrupted. "One with no right to meetings with the dead." 

Mercer huffed in mock-offence. "He's not exactly dead is he?" He got to his feet, offering Percy his hand. "Not quite anyway." 

Percy didn't accept the madman's offer, instead clambering shakily to his feet by himself. "What's he talking about?" He asked the Raven Queen. "I'm dead, I got shot," he placed a hand to his side where bullet had struck flesh. "Hurt like hell."

Behind her mask the Raven Queen frowned. "Technically, the Storyteller has a point. Until you cross over with me you are not...completely dead. Physically your heart is not beating, your lungs have no breath, but spiritually—" 

"You're still right here!" Mercer snapped his fingers, a mask falling into his hand. The skin was tanned, the hair attached to the forehead in an attempt to illustrate a fringe the colour of straw. The God moved the mask in front of his face his voice changed, becoming higher in pitched. The unmistakable voice of Pike Trickfoot. "So there's a chance she'll bring you back. Just like she did your Goliath friend." The mask shifted, the hair darkening to brown, one of the painted eyes turning gold. "Or perhaps," said the voice of Kashaw Vesh, "they'll get him to do it. Granted that might be a bit too close for his old lady for his liking." 

"This isn't the time for games," the Raven Queen chided, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Percival, while what he says is true the choice is yours. I would not have come if I did not sense some thread of acceptance." 

Percy looked to the ground, to the still and colourless form of his dead body. He lay on his back, his eyes wide and glazed, mouth open in a cry of pain. Ripley would die that day, he realised. There was no way in hell his friends—his family—was going to let her leave alive, not after what she'd done to him. He thought of his family, now avenged, his list now empty. What more could he do? Destroy the Conclave he supposed, save Whitestone. But still a small nugget of doubt rested in his heart. He rubbed his eyes, he was tired, he had always been since the death of the Briarwoods.  
"I accepted death when I first met Ripley," he recalled, relaxing under the warm touch of the Goddess beside him. "I saw the bodies of the others and I knew I would be joining them." 

"They're waiting for you," The Raven Queen said softly. "I remember them well, it isn't often I guide a family as large as yours together. 

"But they're not all there," Mercer now wore the familiar face of Cassandra de Rolo, his voice warped to suite her kind tones. "What would her reaction be to seeing the corpse of her beloved brother, hm?" The corners of the mask's mouth drilled into a frown, lips parted and eyes in an expression of pure despair. 

Percy shut his eyes, recoiling at the vision. "Stop it!" He snapped, feeling a lump of anxiety form at the back of his throat. 

"Or her!" Vex said, the god stepping forward, circling Percy like a shark. "You'll never get to tell her how you feel if you leave now. Don't be so boring Percival! Besides, we don't know the consequences, do we Queenie?" 

Percy looked to the Raven Queen, his eyes opening, if only barely. "What is he talking about?" He began before being cut off by the sound of his own voice. 

"Your soul is forfeit!" Mercer cried, the mask now the snow-haired double of Percy, complete with a painted set of eyeglasses. "Or at least I think that's how it went. Tell me Percival, did you ever wonder what happened to those you killed under that demon's control?" 

"Mercer!" The Queen's voice became low with warning. "Do not try to scare him like that." 

The mask mirrored her face once again. "Do not try to lie to him lie that," Mercer quipped before removing the mask all together, his voice and face once again his own. "You're as clueless as I am when it comes to that patch of smoke, admit it!" 

"Is that true?" Percy asked. "Am I..." he moved a hand to his chest, his cheeks pale with worry. 

"I do not know," The Raven Queen answered truthfully. "My job is to guide, I have no way of knowing what lies on the other side. But the demon is weak, his host is dying and will be killed by your friends' hands. Whether he will be able, or if he even has the power to claim your soul in the first place is unknown to me.

"I wouldn't take that chance if I were you," Mercer shrugged. "That thing hated you almost as much as you hated it, if it was me I'd have a hold on your soul as soon as I could." He held out his hand once again, his grin crooked with confidence. "So, you're staying I take it?" 

The Raven Queen let out a sigh. "The choice is yours Percival," she said in defeat. "If you wish to stay with that Storyteller you may, but if you wish to move on..." she trailed off and both gods watched Percy expectantly. 

Percy looked to the Raven Queen, to his friends, to the Storyteller. He bit his lip, closing his eyes in a moment of thought. 

"I..."


End file.
